


Family Holidays

by inkandpaperhowl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Tumblr made me do it, ridiculous fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8583997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandpaperhowl/pseuds/inkandpaperhowl
Summary: "Just imagine all the holidays Harry and Draco are going to have to spend together once their sons get married." -@annabroges on twitter





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started out as a response to this tweet (https://twitter.com/annabroges/status/760169150828441600) that I saw on tumblr (http://thebluepeninsula.tumblr.com/post/148314962641/so-whos-gonna-write-this-fic) that then got COMPLETELY out of hand. I suppose I have to thank these beautiful individuals for the prompt. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

 

 

It starts with the wedding planning.

Somehow, it didn’t quite sink in for either Harry or Draco that their sons’ engagement meant that they were going to be forced to spend time together. In a fathers-of-the-grooms capacity, yes, but also in a “Go with Albus to try those cakes” way, and a “Scorpius is visiting a florist today, go with” way, and a “Both the boys need to be fitted for their dress robes, you should all go make a day of it” way. The more events popped up on the giant Weasley-Potter coordinated calendar with the little green outline that meant either Scorpius or Draco would be present, the more Harry realized that Ginny was, possibly, doing this to him on purpose.

“You know, Malfoy and I are adults, Gin,” he said to her one day, drying the dishes she was washing. “You don’t have to force us together in the hopes that we’ll become friends before the wedding. We do know how to be civil.”

“Right, which is why you can’t even call him by his first name,” she said, flicking a bit of soapy water at his nose. “Harry, please. Just go with to the robe fitting while Astoria and I pick out venue options for the boys to approve.”

“They need options?” Harry said, blinking. “Isn’t it just happening at Hogwarts?”

“You’re adorable,” Ginny said wryly.

.

The wedding took place at a hidden hotel in London, magically disguised as a run down warehouse. The Malfoys rented the ballroom and the Potters hired the caterers–though Albus’ grandmother Molly insisted on doing all the important dishes, including the cake (a delicately frosted confection that looked like two layered trees winding their ways around each other). It was beautiful, and the boys were radiant, and their mothers cried, and Harry and Draco shook hands with something like warmth, though they quickly retreated to their respective sides of the ballroom. Ginny and Astoria rolled their eyes and kissed their sons on the cheeks and forced their husbands to dance.

.

Six months later, Ginny was poring over the guest list for Christmas dinner, tapping a quill against her bottom lip and counting the names over and over. Harry came into the room, dropping onto the couch to kiss her cheek, and she merely frowned and said, “How many of the Malfoys do you think we need to invite to tea this year?”

Harry had nearly choked on nothing but air. Ginny looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Why would we invite any of them?” Harry asked.

Ginny frowned. “Because your son is going to bring his husband, and I thought it would be a nice gesture to invite his parents. After all, we’re family now, and we haven’t seen them since the wedding. The Malfoys, I mean. Of course we’ve seen the boys.”

“I…didn’t realize,” Harry said haltingly.

“No, well, you wouldn’t. Do you think you can keep Ron from drinking too much eggnog and insulting Draco to his face? I feel like that would probably ruin the mood.”

“I’d be more worried about Hermione doing something drastic when he looks down his nose at our mismatched china,” Harry said. “She did slap him that one time.”

“Oh please,” Ginny said loftily. “Draco’s actually not that bad anymore. I’ll have you know, he writes me very long letters about my articles, and we’ve had in depth discussions about Puddlemere United.”

“You _talk_ to Malfoy?” Harry said, disbelieving.

“Grow up, Harry,” Ginny said, turning back to her list. “I’m inviting him and Astoria, obviously, and I think I’ll extend the invitation to Lucius and Narcissa, thought I expect they’ll decline.”

She was right. Christmas came and every Weasley in the country packed into the Potters’ house. Teddy Lupin and his uncle George were cloistered in a corner with James Sirius, probably plotting ways to make the kitchen explode, while Andromeda and Molly debated pie recipes, and Arthur absconded with Mr and Mrs Granger to talk about dentistry and other Muggle things. Neville and Luna arrived with Hagrid and an oversized bottle of firewhiskey that mostly ended up in the punch. Albus and Scorpius came just before Kingsley dropped in for a brief chat with Percy about Ministry holiday hours before disappearing off to his own family Christmas. The boys were commandeered by Lily and Hugo, who were in their last year at Hogwarts and bombarded Albus and Scorpius with questions about the NEWTs and what to do after finishing school.

It wasn’t until after the Christmas gooses had been polished off and everyone was sitting down to a full afternoon’s serious and overwhelming business of opening presents that the doorbell rang one last time and Ginny opened it to reveal Draco and Astoria, the former awkwardly clutching a small pile of packages, the latter beaming and already reaching forward to hug Ginny before the door was fully open.

Scorpius leapt to his feet immediately, embracing his parents and taking his father’s pile of presents while Albus took their coats. Harry shook hands with Draco and hugged Astoria back and awkwardly led them back to the overstuffed room full of Weasley-Potters and Friends. Though Draco hesitated on the threshold, Scorpius gently prodded his father forward to a seat at the end of the couch, plopping Harry down next to him before anyone could say anything. The two old enemies shared a confused silence while Albus handed them both glasses of the spiked punch and grinned wickedly before flouncing off after his husband back to their seats on the other side of the room.

Though everyone else in the room was talking, the bubble of silence between Harry and Draco stretched. Harry opened his mouth several times to speak, but always ended up taking a sip of punch instead. Finally, it was Draco who spoke.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly, “for the invitation. I know it…can’t be easy.”

“Oh, not at all,” Harry said automatically. “It was Ginny’s idea. Family should be together at Christmas, you know.”

Draco nodded, sipped his punch, and the conversation lapsed again. Ginny glared at Harry from across the room. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, how is Puddlemere United doing this year?”

Draco’s cheeks flushed pink. “If you’re making fun of my choice of team, Potter–”

“Not at all!” Harry said, shaking his head emphatically. “Of course, I’m obliged to cheer for the Harpies, but Puddlemere has an excellent line up!”

“You’ll never get me to admit it, but signing your old, insane Keeper was the best thing they ever did.”

Harry decided not to point out that Draco had, in fact, just admitted it. Instead, he just grinned and nodded agreement.

“I never would have thought Wood stood a chance against the line the Wasps put up against him in that last match,” Draco continued, unperturbed by the fact that Harry had just agreed with him. “But his record is spotless. I was telling Ginny, I’ve never seen some of the things he does. He must have arms that stretch to twice their length. There’s no way he could reach the quaffle from some of those angles, but he saves it, every time.”

The afternoon progressed in this manner. Ron wandered over at some point to defend the Chudley Cannons, and though Draco rolled his eyes, what normally would have been an argument or even a fight, was kept a debate–albeit a spirited one–when Scorpius joined the conversation to assert his love of the Tornadoes. Everyone promptly turned to him with utter disgust and formed a united front against such an overrated team.

In the end, the Malfoys were some of the last guests to leave. Once the door had closed behind them, Albus and Scorpius collapsed onto the couch beside Hermione with twin sighs of relief.

“That could have gone so much worse,” Scorpius said, leaning his head against Albus’ shoulder. “I was expecting some sort of duel to erupt in the kitchen.” 

“Punching or wizard’s?” Albus asked tiredly, eyes closed. Scoripus raised one hand lazily, waving it carelessly.

“Either. Both. It would have started with spells, but once they’d disarmed each other, it would have devolved. Father would have a black eye by now, and your dad would have…I don’t know, a split lip? My father doesn’t have the best aim in fistfights.”

“Well, we can all be grateful that didn’t happen,” Hermione said, laughing. “What were you talking about all afternoon, anyway?” 

“Quidditch,” Harry said sheepishly. “It seemed like a safe topic.”

Ginny looked up in horror. “You thought _quidditch_ was a safe topic? I’m surprised nobody ended up in St. Mungo’s. He has _very_ strong opinions on…on…everything!”

“They actually agreed on a lot of things,” Ron said, brow furrowing in confusion as he tried to wrap his head around the sentence he’d just said out loud. “There was some in depth discussion of which fouls could be eliminated without letting the sport get much more dangerous, and they actually agreed.”

Harry shook his head ruefully. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, I hope you didn’t exhaust your agreement on the topic,” Ginny said, “as Astoria has invited us to dinner on New Year’s Eve.” 

Albus and Scorpius sat bolt upright, staring at her with similar expressions of shock and fear. “Did…did you accept?” Albus asked in a low whisper. His mother raised an eyebrow at him.

“I did.”

Scorpius groaned. “This is going to be the most stressful holiday I’ve ever had.”

.

Albus warned his parents that dinner at the Malfoys did not actually mean the same thing as dinner at home. He begged them to wear, if not their dress robes, at least not something as informal as Muggle jeans, and took his father aside to ask him to be on his best behavior.

“I’ve told your mother several times now, Al, Draco and I know how to be civil. We didn’t ruin Christmas did we?”

“Well, at least you’ve learned to call him by his first name,” Albus said, sharing his mother’s wry tone. “Listen, Dad–it’s going to be a lot of small talk and fancy people. That’s not your strong suit. Just…stick to talking about…I don’t know, the weather or how classes are going or something. They’re all going to be asking you why you didn’t go for something bigger than just the Defense professor, but you can’t get mad at them, okay?”

“Who is ‘everyone’?” Harry asked. Albus just winced and begged his father to promise to keep his temper.

‘Everyone’ turned out to be almost every member of Harry’s generation who had been in Slytherin. There were a good amount of other people mixed in–some people Harry recognized as Ministry workers who had once been Ravenclaws and a few scattered Hufflepuffs, but the majority of the guests were…well, Malfoy’s friends. Harry and Ginny had opted for Muggle formalwear, which had apparently been the right decision as Draco met them at the door wearing a finely tailored black suit and an attempt at a smile.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, and the stiffness that had faded from his voice on Christmas the longer they’d talked about quidditch was back in full force. “I know it’s mostly just us Ministry staffers standing around talking shop, but Astoria and I are very grateful you’ve given up your holiday to join us.”

Astoria, as if summoned by her name, appeared at her husband’s elbow with a grin and a hug for Ginny. “Scorpius is, I know, incredibly grateful that we’re making an effort,” she said, hand fluttering over her shoulder to where her son was deep in conversation with Kingsley and some other Ministry department heads. “I hope this is the beginning of something more like friendship.”

Ginny elbowed Harry in the ribs before he could say anything, and smiled at their hosts. “Albus is similarly relieved,” she said. “I’m sure we can all find some common ground–our sons did, after all.” Astoria beamed and took Ginny’s arm, propelling her into the room and introducing her to several people, some of whom looked like quidditch players and others who looked like they belonged to the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Draco stood awkwardly next to Harry, his glass held tightly in one hand. Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets to avoid crossing his arms.

“So,” he said after a moment of silence. “How did we get past this part at Christmas?”

Draco flushed again, spots of pink appearing on his cheeks. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we can talk about quidditch all night.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Um. How’s…the Ministry?”

Draco grimaced. “Classified,” he said, and though there would have been smugness in his tone back at school, now there was only a sort of strain, as if he were trying very hard to not be smug. Perhaps Ginny was right, and he had changed.

“Right,” Harry said again. They remained standing awkwardly until Kingsley materialized to rescue them, drawing them both into a conversation about politics that had Draco arguing animatedly about some new laws about broomstick regulations and the size limits of hidden room spells while Harry nodded at the appropriate moments. He tried to pay attention for Albus’ sake–this was part of his life now, these people and these politics were part of his family. But Harry found it all utterly boring.

Until the topic turned to education, and the new ideas being floated through the Ministry about the pre-Hogwarts schooling for wizarding families.

“Of _course_ it’s important to know maths, even if it’s a Muggle subject!” he said heatedly to a man half his height and twice his weight who was ostensibly the leader of the bills opposing the new schools.

“Most wizarding families find that they can teach their children themselves just fine, Mr Potter, without the need for sending them away and out of the protection of their homes. Underage witches and wizards are a danger to our secrecy, and commuting them to school on a daily basis like Muggles risks disaster and exposure!”

“I learned everything I needed to know before Hogwarts at home,” Draco put in mildly, watching Harry for his response.

“Yes, I’m sure your mother spared no expense on tutors,” Harry said scathingly. “Not everyone has that luxury. These new commuter schools could fill in gaps that wizard parents might be lacking–not necessarily though any fault of their own, but my wife is terrible at maths, and teaching our son James was like beating our heads against a brick wall. These schools could provide a complete turnaround in the weak logic and reasoning skills in most children who came to Hogwarts from a non-Muggle background!” 

“Weak logic!” the Ministry man practically shouted. “I’ll show you weak logic–”

“Mr Potter is, of course, one of the finest educators at Hogwarts,” Draco interjected before the Ministry man could tear his mustache out. “He has an acute sense of what our students might be lacking in their educations.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, unsure if Draco was making fun of him or defending him. The conversation, however, turned to Harry’s lesson plans and how Hogwarts was doing nowadays without Dumbledore at the helm, and Harry realized that Draco had simply steered the conversation away from controversial waters that would have resulted in unpleasant arguments. He had to hand it to him–it was a very subtle and refined way of saving the evening from devolving into shouting matches. He raised his drink to Draco in equally subtle acknowledgement, and received a nod in return.

“Sorry about earlier,” he said later, as he and Ginny were waiting for their coats. Draco merely shrugged.

“I’ve learned a lot about deescalating situations since joining the Ministry. I know I used to be the leader in goading people into fights, but…” he shrugged again. Harry held out his hand, and Draco shook it warily.

“You really have changed, Draco,” Harry said. “Thank you.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Apparently, so have you.”

Before Harry could work out if that had been an insult or not, Ginny whisked him away down the steps and off toward home.

.

“I’m going to invite them to Easter,” Ginny said, and Harry groaned. “Look, there are enough people in this family, that two more eggs won’t be any trouble. Besides, Astoria said she’s never had a proper egg hunt, and I aim to rectify that.”

Draco, it turned out, had never had a proper egg hunt, either, and though Ron assured him that there were no winners or losers in a Weasley Easter Egg Hunt, the competitive nature that had driven their rivalry all through school won out. All assurances that this was for the kids were thrown out the window as Draco, Harry, and Ron dashed around the Burrow’s garden with a fevered energy, rooting through flower pots and bravely reaching down gnome holes in a desperate attempt to find the most eggs, first.

Albus and Scorpius watched from atop the garden wall with a fascinated sort of horror.

“I think my father is going to win,” Scorpius said at one point, watching Draco race around behind the garden shed with his arms overflowing with plastic eggs.

“My family is cheating,” Albus said ruefully, watching Ron glance over his shoulder furtively before adding several of his eggs to Harry’s pile.

Half an hour later, Draco ran up to the Burrow’s back door with his pile spilling from his arms, out of breath and flushed with determined glee. Molly blinked and began counting his eggs while Ron and Harry presented Harry’s haul to Arthur for similar judging. Their faces when Draco won with seventeen eggs were priceless.

“Didn’t we only hide fifty eggs?” Arthur muttered to Molly, who looked just as bewildered as her husband.

“Well, the kids got some of them,” she said, gesturing to where Percy’s children were gleefully trading goodies from their eggs with George’s children. “And Astoria found four. Harry and Ron found sixteen. I think it adds up.”

“There’s one too many,” Arthur said, recounting Draco’s eggs. “Do you remember one this color?”

Molly blinked. “I think that’s…is that a real egg?”

Draco looked up at them and smiled. “You’ve a nest of robins in the eaves of your shed. You never said anything in the egg hunt rules about finding eggs that you hadn’t personally hidden.”

No one could actually argue with that.

.

“You want to do what for his birthday?” Harry asked as Albus continued stirring the batter for Scorpius’ cake. He wasn’t sure how he’d been roped into helping, but he found he didn’t mind baking.

“We’re going to a Tornadoes match,” Albus said making a face. “But he wanted to invite you and his dad. I think he thinks it will be funny.”

“Well, it’ll sure be something,” Harry muttered, licking batter off his finger. “The Tornadoes, _really?”_

.

“We’re not doing that again, I don’t care whose birthday it is,” Draco protested, while Scorpius continued looking through stacks of books at Flourish and Blotts.

“Come on, Father, it’s the only thing Albus really _asked_ for.”

“May I remind you that _your_ birthday quidditch match ended up with you not speaking to me for a month because I insulted your seeker while Harry couldn’t see out of one eye for three weeks because we disagreed on that one cobbing call?”

“Yeah, wasn’t it so much fun?” Scorpius said, grinning wickedly. “Besides, this is the Harpies. We all cheer for the Harpies, even if they’re not our main team, so we all agree on that. We can’t get into a fight this time based on team alignments alone.”

Draco sighed. “Fine, but if I’m the one who ends up with a black eye this time, you can tell your husband that birthday parties are off limits to men over the age of twenty-five.”

.

When Christmas rolled around again, there was no question about whether or not the Malfoys would be invited. They showed up on the Potters’ doorstep in matching emerald green sweaters with a row of snowflakes patterned around the hem. Molly beamed. Harry stood up and clapped Draco on the shoulder.

“I guess you really are part of the family now.”


End file.
